


Across the Multiverse

by nagi_schwarz



Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Stargate Atlantis, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: After a battle with some Wraith, the Atlantis Expedition runs into some strangers from across the Multiverse....Or: stick around for the first of the post-credit clips on Thor: Ragnarok, and if you're a Stargate fan you'll think it too. For at least a second. Admit it.Also Ronon has learned Earth poetry, and Major Lorne likes ice cream.





	Across the Multiverse

“Well,” Rodney said, staring into the deep, dark vastness of space, “now that’s done and I’m glad it’s over.”

The final Wraith hive ship had fairly imploded in upon itself at the end of a string of carefully calculated, planned, and timed explosions, and all that was left floated like sparkles and dust.

“Eliot,” Ronon said.

Rodney turned to him. “What?”

“The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot,” Ronon said.

Rodney was confused. “What about it?”

“That’s what you were quoting, right?” Ronon looked at him expectantly.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Ronon knowing esoteric poetry wasn’t disturbing at all. Rodney tapped his radio. “How are you doing, Sheppard?”

“Just peachy,” he drawled. “Can we go home now, please?”

“Going to have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Rodney said. “Use the star drive till the wormhole drive recharges.”

“Right. I’ll do that. Must have missed it, the first five hundred times you said it.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Just - take us back to New Lantea.” Rodney started for the nearest transporter.

Major Lorne and the rest of the F-302s and combat jumpers would be coming back in to dock, and then Sheppard could fire up the star drive. As soon as Lorne was back, he could make Sheppard a sandwich. Sheppard would never admit it, but spending that much time in the Control Chair controlling Atlantis’s battle and shield systems was exhausting. He’d need to refuel before he could steer Atlantis back to her home planet.

Maybe Lorne could take over while Sheppard was eating. Or even Beckett, because they’d been lucky this time; no one had sustained much in the way of injuries.

Chuck said, “We’ve got incoming.”

“Incoming?” Rodney scrambled to his side. “How incoming is incoming?”

 _“What_ is incoming?” Woolsey demanded.

“It’s about the size of a BC-304,” Chuck said. “It’s coming straight at us. I don’t know if it sees us. We’re still shielded.”

Woolsey tapped his radio. “Colonel Sheppard, we’ve got incoming.”

“We’re low on drones,” Sheppard said.

“Perhaps they are not enemies,” Teyla said. “We should try to hail them first.”

Chuck peered up at Woolsey. “Sir?”

Woolsey nodded. “Lower the shields, open a channel.”

Sheppard lowered the shield, and Chuck fired up a communication channel.

“Incoming craft, identify yourself,” Woolsey said.

There was a pause, a crackle of static, and then a man said, “I am Thor, God of Thunder and King of Asgard. We mean you no harm. The people of Asgard are seeking a new home.”

Rodney frowned. That certainly didn’t sound like any Asgard he’d ever dealt with.

Woolsey said, “Thor is dead. All of the Asgard are dead. Unless you’re some kind of Vanir pretender? Be warned, whoever you are, we’ve just taken out a dozen Wraith hive ships, and we are prepared to defend ourselves against all comers.”

“I am not dead,” the man said, puzzled. “And neither are my people.” He had a deep voice and a smooth British accent. “Who are you?”

“I am Richard Woolsey, head of the Atlantis expedition,” he said.

“Richard Woolsey,” the man on the other end echoed.

Rodney watched the strange ship come closer and closer on the sensor display, heart pounding.

“That’s a very Earth-sounding name.”

“Because we’re from Earth,” Woolsey said.

“Earth? That’s wonderful! We’re looking for Earth,” the man said.

“You won’t get the coordinates to Earth from us,” Woolsey said.

“But Earth loves me,” the man protested. “I am one of the Avengers.”

Rodney huffed. “Wait, like the comic books?”

“Are there comic books about us?” the man asked.

There was a muffled _I don’t know, maybe? I spent the last two years hulked out, remember?_

“Comic books?” Woolsey echoed.

Rodney nodded. “Yes. The Avengers. A superhero team. It included Thor, God of Thunder - though he was mostly a Shakespearean-talking blond bimbo. Tony Stark wasn’t a terrible concept - brilliant, arrogant, also fabulously wealthy and a hit with the ladies.”

“Of course you would admire him,” Teyla said dryly.

“Captain America, also a blond bimbo with decades-old manners,” Rodney said. “The Hulk, a brilliant scientist who turns into a giant green monster. I felt bad for him. His genius was underrated and underutilized in plots. He was the poster boy for brawn over brains in the worst way. I suspect Sheppard looked up to him.”

“Nah,” Sheppard said, “I like Black Widow. She’s hot.”

“I’m Bruce Banner,” another man said, and he was the one who’d been speaking in the background, answering the alleged Thor’s comic book inquiry.

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m going to assume these people aren’t a threat. They’re just intergalactic LARPers.”

“Rodney,” Sheppard said, drawing his name out slowly, like he did when he was trying to make a point, “how would LARPers achieve intergalactic travel?”

“Oh. Oh!” Rodney cleared his throat. “You - you wouldn’t have happened upon a stable Lorentzian wormhole, would you?”

“Ah - no. But we might or might not have traveled through an Einstein-Rosen bridge with a collapsing neutron star inside it,” said the alleged Bruce Banner.

“In English, Rodney?” Sheppard asked. _Do I fire drones or not?_ he meant.

“They’re from an alternate universe, perhaps,” Rodney said.

“An alternate universe where the Avengers are real people?” Chuck asked.

Rodney had forgotten he was there. “I don’t know. Maybe? Listen, Thor, Dr. Banner, where you come from, is there a comic book series or perhaps a television series called, I don’t know, Wormhole X-treme?”

“Never heard of it,” Thor said.

“Describe the premise of the show,” Bruce Banner suggested.

“You know, soldier, soldier-scientist, soft scientist, and robot travel through a stable Lorentzian wormhole to other planets.” Rodney rolled his eyes.

“You mean Stargate SG-1?” Bruce Banner asked.

Rodney spluttered. “SG-1? Of course SG-1, damn Mitchell and his lemon-threatening ways and - okay, Colonel Carter is -” He remembered Woolsey and Chuck, who were both raising their eyebrows at him.

“There was a spinoff,” a third man said. Like Thor, he had a cultured British accent, though his voice was lighter. “Stargate Atlantis.”

“Why do you know that?” Thor asked.

“I spent a lot of time in a prison,” the man said sulkily.

“Wait,” Bruce Banner said. “So you’re - Atlantis?”

“Yes.”

“Are you Colonel Sheppard?”

The excitement in his voice was unwarranted.

“No,” Rodney said. “I’m Dr. Rodney McKay.”

“Oh.”

Rodney rolled his eyes at how disappointed the man sounded.

Woolsey cleared his throat. “Well, now that we’ve all established our identities, I apologize for our aggression, but with the Wraith out and about, we cannot afford to be incautious. You’re welcome to go on your way, and we’ll go on ours -”

“Wait,” Bruce Banner said. “On the show, SG-1, and Atlantis, you help refugees find homes on new planets, right?”

“Yes,” Woolsey said slowly.

“Well, we’re refugees. Asgard was destroyed. Ragnarok. Well, the place was destroyed. But we have a lot of survivors. Asgard isn’t a place but its people. Can you help us find a new place?”

Woolsey looked at Rodney.

Rodney sighed. “The Pegasus Galaxy is littered with empty, habitable planets. However, you’re not in your reality. Don’t you want to go back to it?”

“Do we, brother?” that third man asked. “You said it yourself, it’s best if I don’t go to Earth. Asgardians weren’t made to live on Midgard. And - Jane and you mutually dumped each other. Or something.”

“Bruce has Natasha,” Thor said, not quietly enough.

“If your reality is paralleled in our comic books, Dr. Banner, you have seven PhDs, right?”

“Yes,” Bruce Banner said cautiously.

“I only have two -”

 _“Only_ two?” Sheppard echoed, incredulous.

Rodney ignored him. “But I’m sure, between the two of us, we could figure out a way for you to get home. If not with some kind of alternate reality drive here, maybe with a quantum mirror from our Earth.”

“That sounds doable,” Bruce Banner said. “So -”

“So you settle on a planet and we get to work,” Rodney said.

Woolsey made a choking noise.

Rodney looked at him. “What? It’s practical and obvious.”

Woolsey pushed his glasses up his nose. “Dr. McKay -”

“I can’t be the only person thinking that having a god or two on our side will be handy against the Wraith,” Rodney said.

“When you put it like that,” Sheppard said.

“Gods?” Teyla asked.

“Real ones,” Rodney said. “Not like the Goa’uld.”

“So do we just...follow you home?” Bruce Banner asked.

Rodney thought quickly, looked at Woolsey. He still looked pole-axed at the notion of real gods.

“How about we give you coordinates to a habitable planet with a stargate, plus a gate address to another planet, and we meet up in the middle,” Rodney said. “Unless someone has a better suggestion?”

“Nice tactical thinking,” Sheppard said. “Their ship’s too big to hitch a ride in hyperspace, and I don’t know what that would happen if we used the wormhole drive instead of the star drive. Woolsey?”

“That’s a sound plan,” Woolsey said. “Chuck?”

“Searching the Ancient database for a habitable planet, sir,” Chuck said.

On the screen, the strange ship had slowed before it reached them, was hovering there in space, unmoving.

Thor’s brother, who could only be Loki, spoke up. “So, if your comic books are accurate about us, our television shows are accurate about you.”

“Theoretically,” Rodney said. “Why?”

“Is Major Lorne the military second-in-command?”

“Yes,” Rodney said slowly. “Is he particularly...heroic in the television show?” Lorne was mostly a meat-shield, as far as Rodney was concerned. Better than a Star Trek redshirt, because he was reusable rather than fully expendable.

“That’s one word for it,” Loki said.

As if on cue, Major Lorne came over the radio. “Atlantis, this is Lorne requesting permission to dock.”

“Permission granted,” Chuck said. “You are clear to land.”

“Thanks, Atlantis.”

Loki said, “Does he love ice cream?”

“I don’t know,” Rodney said. “I - let me ask.” He switched frequencies. “Lorne, do you like ice cream?”

“...If I say no do I not get to dock?”

“No. It’s unrelated to your docking permission.”

“In that case, ice cream is my preferred dessert. Mint chocolate chip, to be precise. Why?”

“Just curious.” Rodney switched frequencies back. “He says ice cream is his preferred dessert.”

“Excellent.” Loki sounded pleased.

Chuck reported that he had located the coordinates for a nearby habitable but uninhabited planet with a gate. On Woolsey’s orders, he transmitted the location of that planet, as well as a gate address to another planet, over to Thor’s ship, along with instructions on how to operate the gate.

Rodney wasn’t sure how long it would take the wormhole drive to recharge, so Woolsey instructed Thor and his people to make regular patrols to the meetingplace planet until someone from Atlantis could get there. Thor agreed to this plan, and then his ship took off.

Lorne entered Ops, still wearing his flight suit, his flight helmet tucked against his hip. He made his report to Woolsey: all pilots and flight units accounted for. Then he turned to Rodney.

“Do we have ice cream, Doc?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Well, you asked me about it, so -”

“No. We ran out of ice cream. We’re out of ice cream till the next supply run from the _Daedalus._ ”

Lorne looked crestfallen.

Rodney said, “Go make Sheppard one of his favorite sandwiches. He needs to keep his strength up if he’s going to pilot the city back to New Lantea.”

Lorne perked up at the notion of making food. He was a strange little man. “I’ll get right on that. Anyone want anything else, while I’m at it?”

“I’ll help,” Ronon said, and he followed Lorne out of Ops.

Woolsey leaned against the balcony railing overlooking the gateroom. He sighed. “So. Gods. From an alternate reality. What else will the universe throw at us, do you think?”

“Not the universe,” Rodney said. “The multiverse.”

Woolsey looked pained. Rodney laughed. Science and intelligence were a special burden of their own.

He regretted his words when, halfway back to Atlantis, Chuck picked up a wavering subspace transmission.

It came with a blue-scale hologram and a pretty woman saying, _Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope._


End file.
